


Like Sending a Message in a Bottle

by Neyiea



Series: Links of a Chain [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:50:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is said that hearing is the last sense to be lost when someone is unconscious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Sending a Message in a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> I hate making titles (wahhhh).

Through a series of events that Sigrid is only half-aware of, her father has become good friends with a certain Mister Baggins, who comes to visit every other day in the early morning. She's happy her father has found another adult to spend time with, who he can relax around and talk to about the worries he has that he doesn't want to burden his children with. Mister Baggins, on his part, seems to be a very respectable fellow, and quite amiable. He's nice to Bain and Tilda as well, which is enough for Sigrid to approve of him immediately.

He is also currently staying in Erebor, and is close to the royal family, and has easy enough manners that Sigrid doesn't feel awkward asking him how Fíli and Kíli are.

She knows they're alive, or at least they were when the battle ended, but they've not received any news beyond that.

Mister Baggins seems somewhat surprised by her question, maybe because she sprung it upon him just as he was about to walk out their front door, and she rushes to explain herself.

"I grew fond of them, you see, in the short time we spent together. I was there when Tauriel healed Kíli, but he walked an awful long way to make it to Erebor and I was wondering if his leg was any better after all of that. And Fíli--" She cuts herself off when Mister Baggins reaches out to pat her hand, his eyes glimmering with either laughter or tears.

"I'm glad that Fíli and Kíli have friends who are worried about them," he tells her, "and I'm sorry that you've not been receiving any news about them. I don't think anyone was aware that anyone outside dwarves and, well, one hobbit and one elf, were personally concerned about their condition."

"They are still alright though? They are healing?"

"Kíli is healing very quickly, I imagine it won't be long until he refuses to stay on bed-rest. Fíli..." His lips purse together, and when he continues his voice is softer. "Fíli's situation is a little more delicate."

She must look as stricken as she feels, because he makes a sort of garbling noise and tries to backtrack. "Not that he isn't doing better, of course! But he did fall an awful long way, and he broke quite a few bones. For a while we weren't sure if he would--" He stops abruptly. "Oh dear, I'm not very good at this comforting business, I must only be making you even more distressed. How about I take you to see them instead?"

"Would that be allowed?" She knows that her father is permitted inside Erebor, but she's not sure if the leniencies given to him are extended to her as well.

"Of course it's allowed," Mister Baggins huffs, "I'll bring you along as my guest, and I doubt anyone would try and stop me from doing as I see fit. Dwarves and their code of honour, you know."

She doesn't know, but she finds herself nodding anyway.

"Well, that's decided then. I think it will do them good, to have a new visitor. Let's be off."

"Now?"

"There's no time like the present." He smiles up at her kindly. "Though you should perhaps tell your father where you're going before I spirit you away."

And that's that, really.

She's much too anxious to be properly awed by the grandeur of the inside of the mountain, and Mister Baggins is too dead-set on escorting her as quickly as possible to point out specific statues of long gone kings or opulent mosaics depicting historical events. They do speak to each other, both of them fond enough of cooking that it is easy for them to make small talk, but neither attempts to introduce more serious topics.

Sigrid can tell when they are getting close to their destination because her chaperone gradually begins to slow his pace until finally coming to a stop in front of an inconspicuous set of doors.

He knocks against the doorframe, patiently waiting until a muffled greeting causes him to huff and smile.

The expression helps Sigrid relax a little, because surely he would not be smiling at all if he were about to lead her into a den of illness. He would not have insisted she come at all, in fact, but it's the smallest things that reassure her.

"It's safe to go in, neither of us will be getting an eyeful of semi-naked dwarf," he tells her in a dry sort of tone. "I've made Kíli promise to never beckon anyone inside unless he's properly dressed."

Sigrid briefly purses her lips together in an attempt not to smile. "And do you suppose he'll keep his promise?"

"He will if he knows what's good for him." Mister Baggins says, and then without further ado he pushes the doors open.

"Good morning Fíli, Kíli. I've brought you a visitor!"

Sigrid steps in behind him, surveying the room with trepidatious curiosity. There are two beds with a multitude of chairs scattered around them. In one, laying quite motionless, is Fíli, and in the other, pushing himself into a sitting position, is Kíli.

"If 'visitor' is just a fancy way of telling me you've brought Óin--" Kíli cuts himself off when he sees her, eyes widening minutely in surprise.

Mister Baggins pays little attention to his reaction, and instead turns back to Sigrid.

"Fíli is asleep, but we've been told quite adamantly that even those who are unconscious are sometimes capable of hearing what's going on around them, so do feel free to speak to him."

"Alright."

"And you," he focusses his attention back on Kíli, "be on your best behaviour."

Kíli blinks. "When am I not?"

"I can handle a decent amount of ruckus, Mister Baggins, I am an older sister to two, after all." Her eyes dart from the hobbit to Fíli and back, and if her smile is somewhat strained no one makes a mention of it. "I'm sure Kíli-- Prince Kíli, that is, couldn't cause any trouble that I wouldn't be able to handle."

" _Prince Kíli_ ," the dwarf mutters to himself, as if surprised that anyone would call him by his title, and Bilbo grins up at her.

"I shall leave him to you without worry, then. I'll be back in an hour to take you home." He slips out the door, bidding one final goodbye to Fíli and Kíli, and shuts it behind him.

Sigrid clasps her hands together, eyeing the one chair in the room that was brought in for someone around her size, for Tauriel most likely, which is right beside Kíli's bed.

"How are you feeling?" She asks as she steps forward and settles into the chair.

"Better than I did a week ago, and better than I did when we were smuggled into your house." He smiles warmly, and Sigrid returns it with ease. "And you don't have to call me that, you know. I mean, aren't a lot of folk referring to your father as King Bard now? We're equals then, in a sense, no need for titles between us."

"Oh." She hadn't really thought of that. She'd felt odd enough when Fíli had first referred to her as 'my lady', she doesn't know how she will handle others addressing her as such. "It is strange, to have a rank of sorts tacked onto your name all of a sudden. I should be glad to call you Kíli, and for you to call me Sigrid, if that is alright with you."

The look Kíli gives her is somewhat incredulous. "Of course it's alright. You were very gracious towards us, and Fíli told me about how you helped hold me down when the poison was overtaking me, and, well, I think that people who survive a calamity together should become friends on principle." 

"Do you?"

"Yes, not to mention that a friend of my brother is a friend of mine, and I think Fíli is quite fond of you."

Sigrid straightens in the chair, her eyes darting to glance over her shoulder, and when she looks back Kíli is grinning at her.

"You can move closer to him if you like. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

"You wouldn't mind?" She doesn't want to be rude, but...

Kíli waves a hand dismissively. "It's not like you're moving to a whole different room, I can handle a couple of feet. Besides," his grin widens, "I can't hog all of the company, just because I happen to be awake."

She slides the chair across the floor, valiantly attempting not to blush, and casts another glance at Fíli.

It is odd, to see him so still. If not for the flush of colour across his cheeks Sigrid would think he was dead, and even just the implication of such makes her stomach twist in a knot.

"Has he woken at all since he fell?"

"He didn't for the first five days, but now that he's on the mend he's had a few brief periods of consciousness," Kíli informs her. "He's not entirely lucid most of that time, though."

"Is it-- is it because he's in a great amount of pain?" She can't help the way her voice wavers, and her hands clench in her skirts. 

Kíli blinks at her in alarm. "No, no! Óin has him drink some foul smelling broth that helps him recover but keeps him a bit unaware of his surroundings. Even if not for that I think he'd be alright. It was when all his bones were being re-set that he would have experienced the worst of the pain, and he was thankfully unconscious for that part."

Her fingers uncurl, and she self consciously straightens out the wrinkles of her skirt, trying to ignore the way Kíli is eyeing her with a strangely intrigued look. She focuses on Fíli instead, on the subtle rise and fall of his chest and the occasional trace of movement under his eyelids.

She is just beginning to muster up her courage to reach out and touch his hand, eager to feel the warmth of his fingers even if only for a moment, but Kíli speaks up again and her hands stay firmly in her lap.

"My brother, before he snuck out of your house, stayed behind for a bit longer than I would have expected."

"He did?" She doesn't avoid eye contact, she just doesn't look up.

At the edge of her vision she can see Kíli nod. "It was peculiar, given how responsible he usually is, but then again..." His voice takes on a knowing tone, and Sigrid can tell even without looking up that he must be smiling. "I believe I heard him, before I headed out your window, saying that it had been nice to meet you."

She dares a glance at him, and if anything his smile widens.

"Did he say anything else afterwards, or is that a secret?"

"He said that maybe we'd see each other again, and I told him that I'd like that."

Kíli folds his hands together under his chin, face almost comically serious. "Indeed? Anything else?"

Yes, but she wouldn't be sharing what else had transpired. Some things were meant to be kept private.

"That's between your brother and I."

Sigrid half expects Kíli to playfully goad her for an answer, so she's surprised when he yawns loudly instead, his arms stretching out on either side of him.

"You know, all of a sudden I feel quite tired." He lays back down in his bed and shuts his eyes. "Goodnight, Sigrid."

She can't help the bemused smile that pulls at her lips. "It's not even after noon yet."

There's no answer.

"I know you're not asleep."

He snores. Quite loudly.

Sigrid rolls her eyes, amused despite herself, and uses the graciously presented opportunity to reach out and grasp Fíli's hand.

"Hello again, Fíli," she whispers, "it is good to see you once more. I was worried that you weren't getting better; I've not been receiving any information about you or your brother's condition, you see, but I'm glad to know that you are on the mend. Perhaps I will be able to visit again, soon, and you will be awake. Not that I mind talking to you like this! It just..." Her hand flexes around his briefly, and then she lets go, trailing her fingertips along his knuckles as she brings her hand back to her lap. "It feels a little strange, to talk to someone who has no way of answering."

He doesn't stir, or open his eyes, or flex his fingers.

She keeps speaking to him all the same.


End file.
